Iridescence
by Mewwwwwwww
Summary: Being a doctor is perfect for Lucas; his past experiences have made him cold and very much removed. But at the sight of iridescent violets, the past he has long buried comes rumbling back, through only a mere glance. But more importantly, those violets made his still, unmoving heart beat again. The perfect irony for a doctor. AU /Nessuka and hints of other pairings R&R/
1. Prologue

**Hi ya. First update as RC. Yaay! This is a re-write of one of Cinderella's older fanfics which have the most requests to be continue. So after two years, it's alive again. We're making it AU for this fanfic, cause I found that staying canon to SSB is difficult for this particular story. We're also looking for a beta. **

**So, without further ado, enjoy.**

**- Romeo and Cinderella**

* * *

**~ Prologue :: Bleeding Hearts ~**

_**I don't believe in love. I never did.**_

The funny thing is, love is supposed to be the most amazing magic in the world, capable of changing the entirety of it. My mother has taught me to always believe in the power of love, taught me the magic of being loved and how to use that love to live one's life to the fullest.

But all it did was fail me.

Reminiscence is often left to the fools that bother with the past, but one cannot help himself from relieving such terrible events. It was forever ingrained in my mind, ever torturing me with its freshness and vivacity.

A calm, star-filled night on the eve of July slowly presented itself, a memory that refuses to be forgotten. Our old home, before it was tattered and raged by tragedy, is an oak-wood duplex created by my mother's grandfather before he passed away. It was the image of warmth. The furnishings were sparse: an old couch in the middle of the room, a dining set that my father has personally carved as a gift for my mother on their second anniversary, a vase of sunny seasonal flowers, a few porcelain figurines and some frames with pictures of the entire family, were arranged artistically around the house, courtesy of my mother. It was a home that I truly enjoyed being raised and living in, especially since my family had been more than enough to make me happy. I knew back then that if I were to have a bad day, I'd have a wonderful home to return to. My mother was a charming woman for her age. She had light brown hair that came down to her shoulders. Her face was pale and rosy, without a blemish in sight. She was tall and graceful, apparently attracted the attention of every man in her high school. But my mother had only ever had eyes for my father. My father was tall and gruff, tanned and rough from his years as a farmer. His eyes were always hidden beneath the cowboy hat that he always wore. He was always silent and rarely talked, but when he did, everyone knew that Flint meant it. His hands were callused, but when he played with my brother and I, he was gentle and loving. He adored his family and would risk anything for us.

Three years after the event, he still blames himself for what happened.

It was my brother's birthday, and due to fact that were twins, it was mine as well. Because of work, my father was not present for it. My mother was quite distressed with this fact, but nonetheless, she placed her annoyance and disappointment for my father aside and ensured that my brother and I enjoyed our tenth birthday. It was arguably the most jovial celebration I have ever experience. The fact that our father wasn't present did little to dampen the occasion. Games were played, candles were blown out, cakes were eaten, frosting smeared over smiling faces and happiness was spread. My closest of friends and my family celebrated the day we were born. I was happy, and so was everyone around me. However, that night was also the night that my belief in love, the emotion that I felt merely hours ago, faded. The small, peaceful town of Tazmily was slowly falling asleep. The guests at the party had departed, slowly bidding Hinawa and her birthday boys goodbye. I thanked the townspeople for their well wishes for my brother and myself, waving to them as they disappeared from the reaches of our farm. Mother then ushered us upstairs, into the bath, preparing us for bed. Se got us dressed into our pajamas, a blue one for my brother and a red one for me. She loosened the curtains from the Velcro ties that held them open during the die and she gazed out into the dark canvas of night, peppered with millions of stars. She longingly looked down at the front porch, obviously waiting for my father to return. She sighed and shifted her attention back to the sleepy twins sitting on their beds. Now I know that had she stayed a bit longer staring out the window, she would have noticed the dark shadows that slowly slinked its way unto the porch.

She kissed my brother Claus and I goodnight, humming us to sleep with her lullaby, like she always did. She blew out or candle and closed the door behind her, satisfied that her children were dreaming good dreams.

Then, the tragedy occurred.

My brother and I woke up the heart-wrenching sound of screaming. It was a long, screeching noise from a voice that my brother and I are so familiar with. Being the curious little children that we were we climbed out of bed, tightly clutching our beloved stuffed animals to our chest. We sleepily crept into our mother and father's room. Two pairs of cerulean peeked around the corner, and watched as a strange man lie in our father's bed, repeatedly and aggressively beating our naked mother. Instinct told us to run and find our father. That much we did.

Our father came, ten minutes too late.

My mother, a woman of virtue and love, was brutally raped when I was ten.

My twin brother, a noble soul, went after the murderer and was missing for three years. My father searched for him in those three years, leaving me, age thirteen then, alone to fend for myself. My father died of grief when I was fifteen, when he found out that the son he was searching for for three years, has turned into a mindless, heartless killing puppet blinded by his sheer anger for his failure in his revenge. My brother committed suicide after learning of the destruction he has caused to his world, the world where he and I were once, to his amazement, happy. He breathed his last breath in my arms.

Everything I loved -my world, my home, my family- was taken away. I lost everything, - my life, my family - all because of the disgusting pleasures of a man.

Now, five years after that tragedy, I still feel the pain from my past. There is just too much that time cannot erase. I'd have flashbacks during the day, and nightmares during the night. I'd hallucinate at times...see things that aren't there...

Sometimes, I'd see my family, smiling softly at me as together, we eat at the dinner table. Sometimes, I see flashbacks of my mother's sad smile as she slowly bled to death. Sometimes, I'd see my brother, dead in my arms.

Doctors have identified the condition that I am in as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, something that only happens when a person experiences intense exposure to traumatic events for a long period of time. However, I myself have my own prognosis for my condition, and it is far, far worse than any white-coat professional can analyse with his observation:

I have been numbed.

I have been numbed by the world. Numbed by the lack of love and security that I have failed to feel over the last sixteen years. The pain of your loved ones dying is excruciating, especially when you have no one to lean on during those dark times.

I cannot feel any more. I made myself unable to feel pain and hurt, but I also made myself unable to feel love and happiness. I used to cringe at the sight of blood and violence, but now, having seen what the world had to show me, I feel myself to be indifferent to the violence and blood and death.

I remember crying at mom's grave all the time when I was small, the one moment of my life where I felt so helpless. I remember the townspeople as they made fun of me and the tears that I shed for my mother. It was unusual to shed tears in a town that was so simple and so full of sunshine and happiness. It was hard to grieve for my late mother and overtime, I have been labeled a crybaby, called a crybaby for my weakness and for the tears that I have shed for the most important woman of my life. But overtime, all the insults and the laughter hardened my childish heart. The boy who often sleep in the biting cold to be with his family was now gone. I rarely visit my family's graves now, all next to each other; together. I want to avoid the painful pang in my heart and the burning reminder that I am alone in this world. One could only take in so much pain before they withdraw from the game called life.

To shield myself from feeling such anguishing emotions again, I shut myself away from the world.  
I wanted to stop love from every reaching me again. I wanted to stop myself from loving anything, because I know that if I did feel love again, I'd only lose it, just like I lost my mother, my father, and my beloved twin.

So, I seem to be distant. Most people interpret the way I look and the way I move as me being shy or dreamy, but really, it's me not caring. I don't care about anything in this earth anymore. I merely floated through my life, experiencing and acting to things with as much insensibility as possible. Because of my past, I've lost interest in the present and the future. I've lost all interest in life, love and the pursuit of happiness

And I would have continue down that way, had it not been for you.


	2. On that first day

_OHHAI. I'm soooo sorry for the laaate update. It's horrible. I've been swamped repeatedly by the demon school curric of IB and I'm trying to finish off 150hrs of community service for my high school diploma. Which is more community hours than some criminals have to do for their sentence. And if you're curious, YES I am paying a few thousand AUDs a year for the special treatment. OHGAWD. This story will be updated AFTER November 20, 2012. Wish me luck for my final exam, which just so happens to be 80% of my grade…! *cries*_

_Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. Leave a review for the review monster! I huggle all of my reviewers to death 3! Which is probably why there ain't a lot of them._

**Chapter 1: On that first day**

"I'm sorry, but as I have said before, Doctor Lowell has already left for home about four hours ago. If it is an emergency and you are in need of immediate aid, I'm sure that the doctors down at the ER will be more than capable of handling your situation. Yes, sir. I'll make sure he gets your message in the morning. Have a good evening, sir." _Click_

"Or morning, rather."

Pit, a brown-haired youth of about 25, huffed as he finally put the phone down. That man was just so desperate to see Doctor Lowell about some mysterious 'knee problem' that Pit had to ask himself whether or not the man was truly a patient or one of the beautiful, blue-haired doctor's admirers. Doctor Lowell was one of the hospital's more charming doctors. His office is often full of random packages and 'gifts of thanks' from both the medical staff and his patients. Wherever the bluenette went, the crowd followed, the nurses and patients, both male and female, flocked around him. Almost like die-hard fangirls to a Hollywood star.

Hands massaging his temples, he glanced at the clock and groaned. 1:10am. That time of the graveyard shift when the phone lines of people full of complaints and medical appointments were finally quiet and the filing for the day was done… so what else can he as a receptionist do? He could sleep. He is, after all human and bound to get exhausted. But his busty blonde supervisor will probably catch him and fire his ass. Which is surprisingly really sexy. He could eat; it has been a while since he last ate (at about 5.30 in the afternoon). Deciding on the latter, the boy fished for his wallet in his small knapsack. Taking a few coins out for the vending machine, he tossed the wallet on the desk, eager now for a late night munch. Making his way to the vending machine, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as he saw a faint silhouette in the corner moving closer to the lobby from the Eastern Pulmonary Wing.

"Hello?" Pit quietly called out, frozen in his spot. There was no reply from the silhouette, it kept moving. Moving and moving towards the reception desk.

A story flashed into the boy's head, an urban legend of not too long ago. Apparently, a woman with the reddest of cherry lips had died in the Eastern Pulmonary Wing because a doctor refused to cure her ailments because she refused his romantic advances. Now an angry apparition, she haunts the place she died in, howling and moaning as she passed through.

The wing stayed in Pit's peripheral vision, almost like the apparition itself. Pit visibly shivered.

"Please speak up, whoever you are..!" The boy was beginning to become livid with fear, his feet posed to run back to the reception desk…or outside; somewhere away from this potentially life-threatening situation!

"..ughh…h..h..h.."

"…! N..no..! Never mind what I said! Don't speak up! And most certainly don't come any closer..!" The brunette suddenly started to run back to his desk absolutely pissing himself with fear. (Though not so literally…)

The terrified brown-haired boy kept running down the hospital corridors, seeking the comfort of his safe and snug reception desk. You ever wonder what happens when a fast moving object meets an immovable object? Well, the lighter object flies off at approximately 100 km/h, that's what. Like what that crazy scientist always said, when something hits something, something's bound to fly off. And fly off Pit did when he crashed into something sturdy and rock-hard.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing running around the entire place, Pit?" A gravelly, cold voice inquired.

"H-huh? Oh, I'm sorry, sir…doctor Greill. It's just... that... there was someone following me..!" Pit found himself clinging into the broad shoulders of the man he just crashed in. Ike was a surgeon known for his spot-less record for having absolutely no patient deaths in his ten year medical history as a heart surgery specialist. He was some sort of local celebrity, second only to the beautiful Dr. Lowell in popularity. He was also known for his cold, brute-like demeanour and his sharp, scalpel-like wit (not to mention the glare that usually accompanies each sarcastic remark of the same grade).

"You know, for a desk-bound receptionist you sure are a handful." Ike groaned, prying the frightened boy off his shoulders. The blue-haired surgeon dropped Pit on to his feet. Realising the embarrassing situation he's put himself in, the brown haired boy lowered his head, apologizing.

"I…I'm sorry, Doctor!"

Ike groaned deeply. "Ugh. I guess bowing down and niceties's all medical schools teach you newbies nowadays." The bluenette then sauntered away, acting as if nothing has happened at all. But the brunette looked on with big sad blue eyes, as the man he admired and aspired to be disappeared around the corner.

After the man had disappeared, and the issue of the 'mysterious shadow' had been forgotten, Pit went to the vending machine, his sad and fearful emotions gone and replaced by the anticipation of which flavour of chips he should choose. Sliding the coins into the slot, and choosing the flavour he wanted (sour cream and chives), Pit watched with delight as the coil around the treat unwound and the heavenly machine delivered a divine feast fit for the slaving servant of the medical system. He walked back to his desk, savouring the delicacy that is sour cream and chives chips.

It was precisely 1.30am when heard it again.

The clicking of a door shut and then, soft, shuffling noise started echoing down in the Eastern Pulmonary Wing. Soft, dragging footstep slowly made their way through the hall, the sound of the steps partially muffled by the thick carpeting.

Pit froze when he heard the footsteps.

"H…hello? I-I-Is…that you…again…?" Pit stuttered, his fear seeping into his voice.

_Silence_

"P…please… I am...merely just a receptionist! I'm no medium to the gods! Please leave me alone! I can't help you…!" Pit whimpered as he buried his head in his hands, covering his eyes from whatever he can see.

"Mmm… I do believe you can help me, sir." The voice, boyish in register, replied.

"_Strange_," Pit thought, "…what a polite ghost."

"Do you mind telling me why your eyes are covered?"

"Uhm…cause, I don't feel like losing any more years of my life? So please, will-o-the-wisp…or whatever you are…please be gone..!"

"…What a silly receptionist we have." The boyish voice mocked.

Pit opened his eyes to a sight of a pale face. Reeling back with fear, it took him a few seconds to realize that it was merely that the figure was shrouded in the darkness and that the form was actually not of a will-o'-the-wisp but rather that of a human. A human fully decked out in a white lab coat. Wait, could it be..?

"D-doctor Ryuka..! You shouldn't freak people out like that! Especially in a hospital full of people with such fragile conditions…! " The visibly flushing receptionist managed to yelp out.

"Don't be delicate, Pit. It requires men of strength to thrive in this world." The blonde haired doctor smiled, teasing the obviously rattled Pit.

The receptionist looked up to the doctor, his fear gone and face scrunched up in embarrassment: "I AM NOT DELICATE! I'M JUST NOT HAVING GOOD EVENING!"

Pit felt very much embarrassed. Doctor Ryuka, or Lucas to the elder doctors, is the youngest on the medical staff team. Only 23 years in age, the doctor had rocked the medicinal world with his absolute genius. The kid was a prodigy, graduating from medical school at the age of 21 cum laude. Even though younger in age, the doctor commanded respect. The doctor was cold to everyone, his steely blue eyes reflecting the coolness of his demeanor. Everyone, save for Pit. Pit had often wondered why Lucas had been nice to him, when the doctor was kind to no one else. The brunette would ask the doctor, but he was too chicken, that much he can admit to himself.

"Ahem. Well. What are you doing in the Pulmonary Wing, doctor? Shouldn't you be sleeping at home?" Pit inquired, hoping that the doctor wouldn't notice the sudden change in subject.

"Oh, I have merely been looking at one of my patients. She's recently been admitted with a mild case of bronchitis. It seems as if though she can go-"

A beeping came to Pit's mini P.A. system at the edge of his desk. A woman, whom he recognises as nurse Peach, calmly spoke on the system, although certain nervousness was noticeable in her voice.

"Pit! Please find a way to contact any available doctors! We have an ambulance on the way to the E.R. with potentially critically wounded accident victims and we need as many available staff as possible. Post-haste!"

Pit looked expectantly at the young blonde doctor who looked back with absolute seriousness and determination in his baby blue eyes, a mask of frigidity and stoicism.

He swiftly left the reception area with his robes swishing around him, taking the necessary turns to get to the emergency room.

The doctor arrived as four men, tailed by one black-haired doctor, pushed two gurneys through to one of the unoccupied treatment areas, the gurneys each containing one man who is bleeding profusely. His colleague Doctor Mario and his wife and nurse, the aforementioned Peach pushed through with another gurney, this time with a badly wounded blonde girl. The nurse saw Lucas and motioned for him to approach the upcoming gurney. This particular gurney's occupant looked more torn up than the others. The man's raven hair was caked with blood from head injuries and his striped shirt seems to be singed. Lucas hurried to the trauma centre where his medical assistants who were now pushing down the bars of the gurney to make a make-shift bed. The blonde doctor pushed up his sleeves and readjusted his thin rimmed glasses.

"Nana, please give me an account of what happened."

The brunette lifted her eyes from the bloodied forehead that she has been carefully, but quickly cleaning with a sterile washcloth.

"Car accident. 4 people were involved. Most of them escaped with moderate injuries. This one's got the worst hit cause he's the only one who's not drunk, which is both sad and ironic. The sober one's the one that gets the sharp end of the stick. There seems to be a fractured rib, apparent by the bruising in his lower left side. Possibility of a severe concussion, as we found him with his forehead on the steering wheel."

"How many hours since the incident?"

"Been only 30 minutes, doc."

Lucas pulled out his pen flashlight with one hand and forced the patients eyes open with the other hand.

"Only a mild concussion. Dilation of pupils normal, albeit one dilates slower than the other, but only by a fraction of a second. How are his wounds?"

"Not as severe as we thought, Doctor. Most of them have already healed. Which is bizarre…since there was so much blood…"

Lucas nodded, wrapping a device around the patients arm to take his blood pressure.

"A 78mm/Hg. He should be able to recover the blood he lost without transfusion. As for the ribs, an x-ray will have to be arranged when the patient awakens. The patient is and has been stable. So, we're all good. Move him to a room in the hospital. I'll monitor him until he moves out. In the meantime, I'd like to have any personal identification cards found from the scene so I can look up his medical records on the system."

Nana handed him a medical card with the man's picture on it. The nurse has started to speak again, but the blonde doctor was unable to listen to her. All the doctor could think of was how iridescent those purple eyes were and how reminiscent they were of the eyes of someone he tried to bury in his past.


End file.
